


The hidden meanings behind a single sized bed

by Softasamarshmallow



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hints of rugby captain John, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, Light Angst, M/M, POV John Watson, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, slightly OOC, unrequited love at first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 22:04:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7455577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Softasamarshmallow/pseuds/Softasamarshmallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and his roommate, Sherlock, have never been on good terms with each other. John thinks that Sherlock hates him- but he loves him nevertheless, and would have been perfectly content secretly admiring him from afar, if not for their... situation.</p>
<p>They have to share a single sized bed until the school manages to get them a new bunk bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The hidden meanings behind a single sized bed

John and his roommate, Sherlock have never been on good terms with each other.

Sherlock’s cold exterior makes them hard to socialise or be friends. But John knows the younger man’s interior feelings all too well- perhaps a bit too much. He knows how to read Sherlock like a book, from the way something in his eyes changes when he’s concerned, the way Sherlock almost unnoticeably bites on his lower lip when he’s nervous or worried, to the difference in the way he walks when he’s upset or happy (though this John can only hazard a guess since the younger male is almost never happy).

John knows all these, and he can’t help but fall deeper in love with the other male despite the fact that they aren’t even _friends_ yet- far from it- or the fact that Sherlock hardly even acknowledges his existence. Or even the fact that John is almost utterly convinced that Sherlock _hates_ him, absolutely positively _detests_ him, because even though John likes to believe that he knows everything to know about Sherlock’s inner emotions, there was _one_ expression he could never comprehend- the way the younger male looks at him.

Whenever Sherlock does notice John, those mysterious onyx orbs would harden and grow colder _(I didn’t even know that was possible,_ John mused dejectedly, having been given another one of _those_ looks _)_ , though his face still held no expression whatsoever. And so, John began to believe that Sherlock hated him.

_Could it be because of my obsession with rugby?_ He mused silently, subtly watching Sherlock do his homework. But for some strange reason, he knew that that just wasn’t it.

As Sherlock neared the end of his work, John stood up, walking over to the one single sized bed in their room. For some reason, even though most rooms had bunk beds, they were stuck with _one_ single sized bed. Sherlock had told him that apparently, the school ran out of bunks, but had ordered them a new one.

Until then, they were stuck with _sharing_.

“Sherlock, mate, are you ready to come to bed now?” He called, trying to ignore the way Sherlock’s back slightly stiffened at the sound of his voice. The younger male walked over in response, sliding beneath the covers. John flicked the lights off, crawling into bed beside him, facing the wall as he clenched his fist desperately, trying not to turn around and cuddle up to Sherlock.

 “Sher… do you… do you know why we haven’t got our other bed yet?” John asked tentatively, thinking that if he slept next to Sherlock any longer, he might very possibly die of suffocation (because the close proximity was constantly stealing his breath away) or from embarrassment (because… well. He would very likely jump Sherlock sooner ~~or later~~ ).

“Do us both a favour and go ask, I don’t exactly like sharing with you either, and stop calling me so intimately, we aren’t even friends.” Sherlock spoke, his voice harsh and biting. Anger coursing through his veins, fuelled by hurt, John pushed to his feet, swivelling around to glare at the raven haired male.  

“Alright, that’s it. i’ve been trying my best to be nice- to be good even, but you’re such a jerk, you know that??!! And i’m an idiot for loving you!!”  He hissed, storming out a split second later. Unsure of where to go, he ended up in the toilets, pacing furiously as he pinched at the bridge of his nose to keep the tears at bay.

He was _not_ going to cry about this.

After a while, he broke down, finally letting all those years of bottled emotions out. John cried for his unrequited love, he cried for himself; for failing in his goal to be Sherlock’s source of comfort and the secret force behind his smiles… he cried for Sherlock;  he guessed that something _bad_ must have happened that made Sherlock so cold and uncaring. His sobs quietened, lessening to gentle sniffs and he got up, splashing cold water on his face in a futile attempt to mask his puffy eyes.

With no destination in mind, John wandered down the deserted corridors, thoughts of apologizing weighing heavily on his mind.

_I guess I should head back and do that… Though I shouldn’t have to since I haven’t done anything wrong…_ John huffed, shoulders drooping in resignation as he thought back to Sherlock.  At least they’d possibly be able to go back to the way they were before if he apologized. Because even though their relationship probably meant nothing to Sherlock, it did, no matter how distant, mean the world to John.

_Let’s hope I don’t do anything more embarrassing… though I’d already confessed, what could be worse?_ Sighing once more, he turned on his heels, making his way back towards their room to salvage what he could of the situation. Suddenly realizing that Sherlock would probably not want to share a bed with him after his confession, he paused as he passed the main office, giving himself a brief moment to mourn the loss of his close proximity to Sherlock at night from now on. 

“Um… Excuse me, I’m staying room 313 and we haven’t got our bunk beds yet, I was just wondering when it’d be arriving?” The school administrator looked up at him in puzzlement. 

“We were never short of bunk beds… You’re rooming with... Sherlock Holmes? Did he not tell you that he requested for a single sized bed?” John stared at her, wide eyed and jaw slack, at a loss of words.

  
_Sherlock?! Why would he do that? Why would he request for a single sized bed, when that meant that we had to squeeze up tight and close- oh!_ John’s jaw dropped in shock, his heart tingling with hope.

_Could it be… that Sherlock…?_ Shouting a quick thank you, he sprinted back to the room, planning to question Sherlock. He felt that he deserved to know, because if the reason was what he thought it was, then… _then…_

He burst into the room seconds later, panting for air, and gasped in horror at the tortured expression Sherlock’s face wore. _The_ Sherlock, who was _forever_ expressionless  who would most likely not even bat an eyelid if he was told that his house with all his family members were burnt to death, now had such a pained expression that John felt as if a thousand knives had just stabbed him in the heart. He fell to his knees in front of Sherlock, hands desperately reaching out to caress the younger’s face, frantically trying to smooth out the unbelonging frowns and sorrow that made his face an emotional mess.

“You… Your face… Don’t…” John choked out, trying to stop the tears that sprung into his still red eyes. Sherlock’s forehead creased just the slightest bit more, before his entire features relaxed to that of his usual cold façade.

“I’m sorry…” Sherlock whispered, pulling John flush into his embrace. John froze, the embrace taking him by surprise. Then he released the current of tears, clutching Sherlock as he sobbed into his shoulder. Sherlock rubbed small circles round his back, murmurings numerous apologies and sweet nothings to him. And they both stayed like that, Sherlock cradling the rugby captain in his arms, offering comfort and support as much as he knew how to.

Later, when John was calm, lulled to what he knew would be a gentle dream, he sleepily asked Sherlock about the mystery behind the single sized bed.

“… That's... Because, then I’d be able to hold you close, to feel your warmth and wake up to the sight of you sleeping so peacefully… because,” Sherlock paused to place a chaste kiss to John’s lips.

“I love you.” Those three words made John’s heart swell with infinite wonderful emotions, his lips curving up into a sweet smile.

“I love you too, Sher.”       


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this! This was one of my very early works in the fanfic world, that I actually wrote with two other characters in mind and never published, but I was just going through my previous work and realized how much like Johnlock this could be! I didn't want to edit it too much, just to remind myself how noob I was back then at writing haha! That, and i'm lazy oops. But I do hope it's not too painful to read and enjoyable to some of you guys!


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